


The Volunteer

by Activoid



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Humor, One Shot, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29086179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Activoid/pseuds/Activoid
Summary: Last call at the bar. Jak, in his haste, accidentally forgot his communicator on the counter again.The Precursors need to contact Mar for one last favor before they depart orbit for good.Jinx and Torn have already downed more than a few drinks.What could go wrong?(Rated M for language and minor sexual themes. Inspired by a very brief Discord conversation with friends.)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	The Volunteer

_ "Last call for drinks, boys!" _

Tess gave her patrons a wink, as she was cleaning a small stack of shot glasses with a rag before setting them off to the side.

Jinx and Torn both nodded, agreeing to one more before they hit the road.

It was almost closing, only a few weeks after the war ended and the Precursors had left the world. The Naughty Ottsel went through one  _ hell _ of a renovation during its time as a temporary guard quarters and southern command post. But now that the rest of the city was being rebuilt, things were slowly returning to normalcy, and Tess was able to take charge of the establishment again. There was still a lot of cleaning to be done, and repairs to the external facade to be made. At the least, she convinced Daxter to retire the mascot sign for now. They agreed to leave the shrapnel and bullet holes that the guards made in the facade, though. Just as a memento.

As Tess was wrapping up the bar counter and putting things away, Torn stared off into the distance, questioning the madness he had seen take place in the last few months. _ Was any of it even real? _ His best spy from the Underground days was now reduced to only a few feet tall, and furry, and was even attracted to that obnoxious orange rodent that Jak carried around with him everywhere. He didn't know if that part had happened before or after the  _ divine intervention _ that took place before the gods departed. He never asked Tess, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer. There were too many other things to worry about anyways.

But talk about throwing a curveball. _ He never saw that one coming. _

Torn grunted a quiet "Thanks," as Tess served him his last drink of the night.

_ What a weird last few months. Absolutely bizarre. _

Even Veger somehow ended up as one of those ugly, dumb-looking creatures. One of those... Precursors.

His face became sour at the thought. It wasn't the revelation he was expecting. He didn't know what to expect, he wasn't particularly religious, never gave much consideration to the identity of the Precursors. Like everyone else, he possessed some faint ideas of his own,  _ but not anything like this. _

Tess perceived that Torn got quieter with every drink he downed. He was always like this when he was ruminating in his thoughts. A longtime friend, war buddy, and now one of her regulars; he noticed it took her a little longer to basic tasks now that she was shorter in stature, but she didn't want his pity. Sometimes Torn would offer to get things for her from the shelf, but she always managed to do it herself.

She didn't want his help, either. If Daxter could manage just fine, then so would she! And she especially didn't want any help from Jinx, either. Though his idea of “helping'' was  _ asking the same question over and over again _ , and forgetting the answer every time, either because he was too drunk or not paying attention. Tess told them that evening that if they wanted to help, then they could stay, enjoy a few drinks, and keep her company. That was how they could help.

Everyone agreed to it.

They caught up on local news, exchanged smalltalk, and made jokes about the strange nature of their new reality, until Torn became so mellowed out that he just stopped participating in conversation altogether, leaving Jinx to do all the talking until he was worn out.

Torn and Jinx were finishing their drinks, keeping her company so that she had someone to talk to while she worked. Jak had been there earlier in the evening, and even  _ he _ attempted to offer her a hand, but Tess politely declined, for the same reason. She tried to be kind in her rejection as possible, telling Jak that while he is an esteemed customer and good friend, she knows he came here to _ relax _ , not  _ work _ . She did assure him that his offer was appreciated, however... She worried about hurting his feelings, and didn't want to tell him the same thing she told Torn and Jinx. She was always more blunt with  _ those _ two.

But he didn't seem too bothered; he shrugged it off, spent a few minutes hanging out with the guys, and then left right after, muttering something about how he forgot about meeting Keira somewhere that night and how he needed to go.

_ Though, in his haste... Jak had accidentally left his communicator on the bar counter. _

It would probably be hours more until he noticed it was gone, if not days. He could go forever without so much as _ looking _ at the thing.

Just a year ago, Torn remembered chastising him multiple times when he’d intentionally left his comm on his bunk in the resistance hideout almost _ every time _ he needed to leave the city walls. Jak would make up some excuse about how he “forgot”, but the fierce and murderous look in his eye upon being confronted told Torn otherwise.

Torn snorted, lost in his thoughts. He didn’t have  _ a clue _ how this dumb kid was still alive, with his obnoxious, punk-ass attitude, combined with a living, breathing orange megaphone attached to his shoulder half the time.

Who knows how long it would be until Jak found his communicator again. Or if he even cared to begin with. A handful of hours already passed, and it would probably be there for even longer, if Torn could guess.

And now it was closing time.

_ The little punk wasn’t getting it back anytime soon. _

Tess inspected the communicator carefully when Torn handed it to her.

"Lost and found?" She said.

Torn only let out a gravelly, "Yeah."

At least it wasn't really  _ his _ problem anymore that Jak couldn't keep his phone on him to save his life. The war was over. There were no more battles to be fought. No deposing of dictators. Torn couldn't care less. He didn't have to babysit anymore.

"Oh. Did Jak leave his comm again?" Tess giggled, "I'll be sure to give it to him in the morning. He'll be back by then I'm sure. You can just leave it there on the counter for now until I get around to it. I'll be right back, I have to go fill the back sink! Lots of dishes tonight... But don't you worry! You guys can stay after closing, if you'd like."

She hopped off the counter with the typical grace of a small furry animal, and headed around the corner into the back dishroom. The bar emptied out long ago, the front doors locked as the last customer shambled out. There hadn't been a lot of business after the war, most of their patrons were people who were already friends of Tess and Daxter.

Jinx swiveled on the barstool, drink in hand. Cheeks slightly flushed, he chuckled, "Our blondie boy sure took off in a hurry, to leave his communicator behind like that!"

He almost fell off the stool, but caught himself, and continued his rant, "And that dumb, smug look on his face when he said, 'Duty calls'...” Jinx tried to mock the cadence and tone of Jak’s voice, “Pfft... I think you mean _ booty _ calls!" he leaned up against the counter, "What do you think?"

Torn could not express how much he didn't care. He didn't bother to reply.

Jinx sighed, "He's a real chump for women,"

Still nothing from Torn.

"I heard rumors he was  _ kissing your girl _ ,"

Torn's eyebrow twitched slightly, but he didn't have the energy to counter Jinx's endless prodding. Now he was just trying to get a reaction out of him. Torn would never give him the satisfaction.

_ "I doubt that." _ Torn gave him a dark look.

Jinx shrugged, taking the hint. He decided to drop the subject with a casual, "I dunno man, it's just rumors..."

Torn still was staring straight ahead at the mirror. He grumbled, "I don't care what Jak does in his personal time, as long as it isn't overthrowing the government," he held his drink up to his lips, pausing with a second thought, "Or _ mauling _ people," he finished his last shot.

Jinx agreed, "That kid is damn good at what he does, I'll give him credit, but boy am I glad he found himself a hobby. Already been a year and those  _ berserker _ scars on my left leg haven't healed yet. Bastard gave me one hell of an infection, too," He paused, swirled his drink, lowered his gaze and spoke with bitterness, "A  _ warning _ woulda been nice! One minute you're fine, traipsing around the sewers all  _ fine and dandy _ , handing metalheads their asses left and right," He made finger guns to really sell his point,"... and then the next minute, your  _ own guy _ turns on you and literally tries to _ bite your head off! _ He went right for the  _ fuckin’ _ neck! Like what's up with  _ that _ , right?" He started slurring, his motor movements becoming slightly more sloppy as the evening progressed, even spilling liquor from his glass at one point by waving his arms around so much.

" _ Like who does that? _ Where did you _ find  _ this guy?"

Torn gave an uninterested, "Yeah."

"If I didn't have Mog right there to clothesline the little shit with his arm and knock him silly, the dumbass probably woulda’ killed me!"

Torn was now only mildly interested, as he’d not yet heard _ this _ part of the story before. Only the other parts before it. _ A hundred times _ . "What did you do to make him that mad?" he raised an eyebrow.

Jinx quickly got defensive,  _ "I didn't do nothin'! He just snapped!" _

But Torn knew better, Jinx probably said something careless and stupid to boil the kid's blood. Or maybe it was just friendly fire after a fight. Or maybe it was a dark eco overdose, since there had been hundreds of metalheads, as Jinx repeatedly recounted to him. Jak once described it as a sort of  _ itch _ , the bloodlust that he felt during a rough fight. Said it didn't immediately wear off. Said sometimes he’d hurt people he didn’t always mean to hurt.

Jinx relented, " _ Guess I can't be totally mad at him forever _ , he did save the planet or something... Gotta respect that; kid's gung-ho as they come… But I understand why they kicked him out! Smart move."

Torn realized that Jinx didn't quite know the full extent of the things that had happened since Jak's banishment to the wasteland. The stint with Jak's father. Veger getting taken out of the picture in the strangest way possible. The true identity of the Precursors. Jinx wasn't there when any of that happened, and Jak didn’t take the time to cover it with him yet.

Apparently no one else had, either.

Torn rubbed his temples, starting to get aggravated by Jinx's incessant ranting, now that he was liquored up.

_ "What a weird fuckin' month." _

===

_ [Meanwhile, in orbit…] _

The rounded precursor ship floats gently in space, far above the planet's surface. Inside, the bridge has only a few crew, laboring away at golden dials, switches, and screens. A large piece of obsidian debris from the Daystar, perhaps a few feet long, clinks gently against the turquoise window of the spacecraft.

_ "You idiots! You missed one!" _ A high-pitched and haughty voice echoed across the command bridge in the ship's main chamber.

The Leader of the Precursors waved his staff in irritation, pointing at the floating shard outside the canopy, "See right here? Take care of it! Can't I expect you to do anything?  _ My goodness! _ "

A small oval-shaped robot detaches itself from the ship's exterior, light and metallic like copper, moving delicately over to the offending space debris. As it fired a blue beam, the obsidian Daystar chunk became perfectly immobilized... And subsequently vaporized in a flash of light.

The Precursors were cleaning up debris from the last battle while they were in orbit. They didn't want any of it to fall to the planet and cause any more damage than it already had, or worse: for the cursed technology to wind up in the wrong hands, and risk being reverse-engineered. Even though they won the battle, they didn't want to leave any traces of it behind. They kindly offered Jak's people the favor of destroying any dark artifacts left on the planet, as well as anything left in the upper atmosphere.

_ It was standard practice after a successful planetary battle. _

Thanks to their carefully selected champion, and with hundreds of years of cleverness and careful planning, the Precursors had outwitted their dark brethren yet again, and gained another planet under their control, as is written and agreed upon in the Ancient War Rules. The planet was now deemed a Precursor territorial victory, and the rules dictated that _ no Dark Maker may influence nor set foot upon this planet, nor its immediately associated heavenly bodies, from this point forward. _

But the clean-up was coming to an end, and soon it would be time to move on to the next world and do it all over again, just as it had been done thousands of times before, for millennia.

Jak's planet unthinkably provided an unexpected boon; the gods never intended to leave the planet  _ unfinished _ , or abandon it entirely with eco strewn about. But the strangest thing happened in their thousands of years of absence: all sorts of creatures and plants and animals  _ flourished _ and changed because of the eco presence, and some of them even had a sensitivity to eco similar to the Precursors themselves. And so they scoured through time to find their selected champion; looking through the lifelines of every man, woman, and beast that had walked the land, to find a warrior who could proficiently wield all the colors of eco, using them as if he were a  _ god _ himself!   
  
And in their long search, they had found a young child named Mar, born from the blood of a lowly hunter-trapper named Damas, descendent of a long lineage of channelers. Granted, the gods went back and forth in time to make a few revisions to the timeline, as is permitted in the Ancient War Rules once the planetary battle begins, to give Mar a better chance at becoming their ultimate champion each time, so some things got a little _ scrambled _ . Some things didn’t quite work out as intended. They propped up the lineage of Damas so that their champion would eventually be born into royalty, therefore ensuring better chance of survival, as well as access to better resources and protection. Not everything went smoothly, but the plan eventually worked. In the end, the Mar they knew, the final product of their cosmic meddling better known as “Jak”, had fulfilled his destiny. Their job was done.

It was a spectacular boon, a pure accident, and one that worked incredibly well for the fate of this planet. Because serendipity prevailed, this planet had not been lost to the Dark Makers like many others before it. Though it did come close. They were very lucky...  _ This time. _

The Precursor Leader tapped his foot impatiently, "I can't help but feel like we're forgetting something," He looked to the ottsel next to him, "Pull up my to-do list."

The Surfer ottsel brings up the data display on an orange and gold holographic screen, scratches his chin, and checks the list:

" _ Number one. _ Send out formal communication to the Dark Makers declaring the Planet, associated Moon, and immediate binary star system as ours, as outlined in the war rules. Check. Already did that. And dude? Scanners still show all remaining Dark Maker ships have finally left this sector. Nice.  _ Gottt 'emmmm _ !"

The Leader rolled his eyes as his second-in-command continued, "Ahem.  _ Number Two. _ Win war with Dark Makers... Working on it. Can't check that one off for another few thousand years or so. That one's been on there for a while. Also we should probably rewrite this list, some of these things are  _ out of order _ and-"

The Precursor Leader cleared his throat, interrupting his tangent. The Surfer looked away nervously.

"-Right, anyways!  _ Number three. _ Clean up space debris around Mar's planet... Check.  _ Number Four. _ Refuel ships at planetary eco reserves... Check. Did that forever ago... Oh. I think this was the one item we forgot."

The ottsel Leader's ears and eyes perked up, "Yes... yes? What is it?"

"Number Five. Grant wishes of the champion and/or champions who won the battle."

The Leader remembered that ordeal, facepalming as his voice was reduced to a muffled and quiet, "Oh. No;  _ no we already did that _ ,"

"We did?" The ottsel dummy peeked out from around the corner.

"It was...  _ easily forgettable _ , so I forgive any of you here for not committing it to memory."

The Surfer remembered now. And even then, remembering seemed like a strong word to use. He vaguely recalled that situation. The Leader was right. It wasn't very memorable. Usually planetary champions would ask for something a _ little  _ bit more grandiose or showy as their reward for achieving major victory on an intergalactic battlefield.

Immortality, some physics-defying superpower, an infinite supply of wealth, something stupid like  _ being made king of the world _ , even... every champion they'd granted wishes prior to Jak and Daxter had asked for something downright  _ magical  _ and normally impossible, something that only a supernatural event could grant them.

Daxter had wished for... pants. The gods long-expected him to wish for a return to his humanity, but they granted it, and didn't judge him for it. The ottsel Leader was actually relieved that he didn't have to change Daxter back into a human; he thought he was rather ugly anyways. Of course,  _ he may have been biased. _

And Jak? He didn't seem to care. He loved adventure for all of his life, and so the creators believed they could gift him the ultimate adventure... but what they didn't realize was that he seemed to have enough of it at that point. He was tired. Adventure was a childhood dream that had been plenty fulfilled, and what made adventure worthwhile was having Daxter by his side the whole time.

Jak had changed his mind about travelling the universe, instead wanting to stay and bar hop with his friends. And put his face in his girlfriend's boobs. At least that's what he said. None of them understood the fascination with boobs on this planet, or the appeal of alcohol, but they both seemed to hold much greater cultural importance than originally given credit for. At the very least, they could understand the desire for meaningful companionship... And so they were saddened as they let him depart the ship that night to spend the rest of his life surrounded by his friends.

The crew had been humbled by how much they didn’t understand about life on this planet. It  _ almost _ made them yearn to stay longer and learn more about these fascinating and perplexing people, but the gods had a tight schedule to adhere to.

The Surfer got to the next item, "Oh yeah. Forgot this one.  _ Definitely _ forgot this one."

He pointed to the list.

The Precursor Leader squinted. He sighed.

"Ah yes, we forgot to ask our champion if he'd like to volunteer the citizens of his planet to  _ ascend _ . Was that it?"

"Yeah, that's really the last thing here before we head off to the next star sector."

"Perfect, let's see if we can ask him now. The sooner we can leave, the better," The Leader clapped his hands together.

"I think it's night time where he's at," Dummy pointed at the planet, where the shadow of evening entrenched several continents in darkness.

"He might be asleep," The Surfer added.

"Well, it's rather urgent. We need to get going to the next star system soon, or else we're going to lose our advantage."

"He probably won't be near any of the statues or other contact points where we can communicate, if he’s in the city."

"I think he had a  _ walkie-talkie _ or something like that, though," Dummy said, scratching his head.

There was a long, awkward silence as they turned towards their foolish companion, looking at him incredulously.

Neither had a clue what he meant.

They blinked.

" _... A what? _ " Both the Leader and Surfer gave the Dummy puzzled looks, speaking in unison.

The Dummy continued gleefully, "You know... you can  _ walkie _ ?  _ And _ you talkie! That's how everyone talks to each other on the planet. It's like a lil' tiny radio!" he grinned, clueless that he was only befuddling his crewmates further.

The Leader finally picked up on what the Dummy was referring to.

Jak's portable communicator. Of course.

"Ah. _ Yes, good _ , we can find out the frequency the device uses, get his exact coordinates, then beam it down and hopefully he'll get the message."

The Surfer mumbled, “The statues you set up are a little bit outdated compared to everything else they have. Only a few people really use them, like the  _ really _ dedicated ones who love us, everyone else has portable communication technology down there nowadays. Kind of a bummer, dude.”

“Well I didn’t plan for us to be gone for thousands of years! How could I have guessed they would use the eco to develop their own devices? They weren’t even supposed to discover  _ fire _ ! And now look at them!” The Leader threw his arms up in the air, exasperated, but then collected himself, “Anyways, see if you can contact him.”

"I had some experience with these devices when researching primitive technology about a century ago; I can pull up the specifications," the Surfer mused as he went back to work on the holographic screen, pushing buttons and swiping through displays. And they eventually went to explain how to do it, talking about towers, signal triangulation, satellites, and how they had to do it carefully, otherwise they would make every single communicator in the city start ringing, "I even went on something they called _'the world wide web'_ , a network they created to share and store data, _very primitive of course_ , and hella slow, but similar to how our ship computers work using the quantum-eco leylines. Roughly. Anyways, I was able to find his personal data _mondo_ _easily_ just now, so we can just... _call_ _him_."

"Wonderful, then we can get moving sooner than anticipated. Let's _ 'give him a call' _ , as the kids here like to say," The Leader chuckled quite amused with himself, "I'm sure Mar will be happy to hear our offer... Oh, how I'll miss this planet and their silly colloquialisms."

===

Torn sighed,  _ "Nevermind," _

Jinx begged him, "Oh come on, you said you  _ saw _ the Precursors? Don't leave me hanging, man! What did they look like?"

Torn replied tensely, "I guess you could say it was kind of a  _ disappointment _ ."

Jinx, "What, that lame? I'm not religious, but seeing the makers themselves? I'm a lil jealous."

Torn, "Let's just say... I think a lot of people lost their religion that day, Jinx."

Jinx, "What, were they ugly? Like those goofy statues?"

Torn didn't get a chance to elaborate further when Jak's communicator lit up on the counter and started ringing.

They both stopped and looked at it.

Jinx smirked.

He gave Torn a devious, drunken look, with half-lidded eyes.

Torn glared at him, "Don't touch it. Don't even think about it."

The phone kept ringing. The mischievous glint in Jinx's eye didn't falter. Torn challenged him with a glare, as Jinx's hand slid towards the device.

_ Slowly... slowly... _

Torn blocked him with his arm and growled.

"Jinx... I'm telling you. Don't touch his stuff. Trust me. It's none of our business.  _ Nothing good can come of it _ ."

Jinx chuckled, "Oh come on, it's probably just booty call number two, right? Who else would be calling him this late at night, unless he had a sweet side girl? Maybe I could hook her up!"

He winked.

Jinx put out his cigar, and snatched the communicator off the counter anyways, despite Torn trying to grab his arm. Jinx swatted him away, and Torn wasn't willing to get into a slap-fight like a schoolgirl over something so petty.

Torn knew he was defeated, and leaned on the counter, resting his forehead in his palm.

_ God damn it. _

“This is for the berserker scars on my leg, Torn. Me and him will just be  _ even _ now,” Jinx retorted.

He looked at the screen as it still rang, "Huh.  _ Unknown Number _ . No caller ID. Wrong number, maybe?" He grabbed a toothpick from a bowl on the counter and started chewing on it, weighing his choices.

Torn didn't even look at him, just mumbled, "Don't answer it."

Jinx twiddled the toothpick in his mouth.

He smirked.

"And what if I do?"

_ "Don't." _

He opened the call.

Torn let out a frustrated sigh. In the event Jak  _ did _ want his comm back, Torn didn't want to get cut to ribbons if he found out they were messing with his shit.

They heard a haughty, high-pitched voice on the other end, a voice that was almost a squeak, but not quite a squeak. It was an unusual voice repeatedly saying,  _ "Hello? I don't think it's working... Hello?" _

Jinx lifted the communicator to his lips, and spoke carefully, "Hello?"

The voice seemed delighted, "Oh! _ Oh, hello! _ Sorry to bother you so late, is this... Jak? Mar? Is this the right number?"

Jinx smiled devilishly and bit his lip mischievously, pausing for effect,  _ "... And what if it was?" _

Torn begged, face still in palm with a headache, "Jinx... stop..."

The stranger hummed, "Your voice sounds quite different than I recall, are you feeling well today? Do you have a cold?"

The call quality was a little questionable and hard to hear, there was a lot of static and distortion that caused him to miss a few words, so Jinx put the communicator up to his ear to see if he could hear better.

Jinx paused, unsure of what to say, "Uhhhh..." and thought he heard someone in the back of the call yell some things about bandwidth, primitive technology, and bad call quality affecting the way someone can sound on a communicator sometimes.

Jinx lied, "...  _ Yeah! _ It's Jak here!  _... Who 'dis? _ "

"No matter," the voice mumbled to their background technician, "My apologies, that was rude of me. I was just clearing up a thing or two with my associates.” The voice then cleared his throat, and began speaking as if he was reading from a piece of paper, “I'm here to inform you that you are eligible for a  _ great deal _ with benefits that both you and your people may enjoy. How would you like to volunteer your world to ascend to godhood? With this blessing-"

Jinx rolled his eyes impatiently, dropping the phone from his ear and put his hand over the microphone, and grimaced at Torn, adding in a low voice, "I think it's a scammer, or a telemarketer... Should I fuck with 'em? Or just tell 'em to go away?"

Torn didn't say anything, he just grunted and rubbed his temples.

Jinx put the phone back to his ear and the voice on the other line was still talking, apparently unaware that Jinx had not been listening.

"-allows for interdimensional travel, unlimited access to our unique technology, planetary customization features-"

Jinx interrupted, "Yeah sure whatever.  _ Sounds good _ ."

The voice sounded delighted, "You don't want to hear the rest of the benefits?"

"Oh no. No.  _ No need. _ "

"Excellent, consider this our thank you, and our apologies for such a long delay in contacting you. We'll be leaving soon, so this may be the last time we get to speak for a long while... It was a pleasure."

Jinx looked bored now, the call was a disappointment, "Yeah ok,  _ but who is this again? _ "

They hung up abruptly.

Jinx was quiet.

He furrowed his brow.

"Well that was a weird call."

They sat in silence until Torn felt the need to say something.

"You should know by now... _ that everything surrounding Jak’s life is weird. _ "

"Relax, I think it was just a scammer. But they hung up before they even asked for my credit card number.  _ Amateurs _ . Next time they call back, I could teach them a thing or two about data fishing." Jinx then sniggered a bit, wiping his eye a little.

_ "Psh... What a buncha' fuckin' morons!" _

===

_ Meanwhile, the Precursor ship's Ascension Cannon was lining up with the planet in orbit. _

The ottsel Leader puffed up his chest with a smile, adjusting his crown slightly, "All right, we've been given the word! So considerate towards our cause, that our champion would volunteer his planet’s people to join us in ascension. Truly, the battle for this planet was an  _ auspicious _ victory... Fire on my order."

_ The giant cannon glowed. _

_ Then fired. _

=THE END=

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Everyone is now ottsels. Sorry this was just a goofy one-shot, I won't be continuing it, but feel free to write your own works or leave a comment if you liked it!


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